


Over the Top

by AaNnYyCcHhOoUu



Series: Head over Heels, over the Top and down the Rabbit Hole [2]
Category: Shameless (Podcast), Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Odd, Over the Top, Sadness, TOO MUCH
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 03:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30015261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AaNnYyCcHhOoUu/pseuds/AaNnYyCcHhOoUu
Summary: SUCCESSION OF ONE OFF SHORT OR TINY DRIBBLES.This work is part of the series called 'Head over Heels, Over the Top and down the Rabbit Hole'.The series is composed of 3 works:- 'Head over Heels' which is a succession of short sweet and fluffy pictures of the domestic life of Ian and Mickey- 'Over the top' which is a succession of short over the top stories. If it's too much it belongs there- Down the Rabbit Hole' which is a succession of short sad, ugly, dark dribble full of angst (TW will be indicated for each new story)Art attached is from @steorie, if you don't know her, check her up. It'll be worth your while!If you've got any idea that you would like me to put into words, hit me up!twitter: @anychouinsta: @anychouAnd as usual, kudos and comments are the fuel of the writer (and it's green energy so you can use and abuse it!)
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Head over Heels, over the Top and down the Rabbit Hole [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208003
Kudos: 5





	Over the Top

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter of this work is actually coming from me being a clown on Twitter and imagining Ian and Mickey have everything they want like in an odd fairy-tale. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

> [I Fucking Love You](//imgur.com/a/Q3iWaZQ)

Mickey crushed his cigarette butt on the wall by his side, only now noticing the no smoking sign on that same wall right above his head. Before his brain even registered the information, he had already decided he couldn’t give two fucks.

The man stayed put for a while, debating the idea of lighting another ciggie for the sole purpose of not entering the reception area of the hospital.

Ian was already inside, trying to find out terry’s room number. Terry had had the stupid idea to get shot and not die. He was now in a coma and somehow the Milkoviches thought it landed on Mickey to take care of him.

Mickey on his hand was trying to make sense of it all. His brain having apparently decided to yoyoing his feelings from fucking happy the asshole was on the verge of crooking to somewhat sad, maybe.

Mickey liked to think that he was a man of actions more than though. And as of right now his thoughts were all in shambles, he took it as a sign that he should stop being a pussy and just get on with it.

Ian’s husband and proud to be, joined said Gallagher at the reception desk of the Cook County hospital where he learnt that his father was in intensive care and that visits were limited.

“Yeah, that won’t be an issue, no one likes the motherfucker enough to visit him.” Ian ignored the outraged look of the receptionist as he pulled Mickey toward the elevators before the man started ranting against the poor undeserving woman as he knew he would. Ian tried to council the smile creeping up his lips. So, maybe he sort of liked the power he had over Mickey. It felt like having a superpower. One shove here, one pull there and he was efficiently protecting the innocent random asshole from the wrath of Mickey – Fuck u up – Milkovich. Yup, Ian was a superhero!

Lost in his thought, Ian hardly heard his husband ask for Terry Milkovich to yet another receptionist when they arrived at the Intensive Care Unit. He followed a few steps behind as a nurse was explaining in unnecessary details Terry’s condition while bringing them to his room. She left them at the doorstep and gestured for them to enter.

In the room, a blond man, short hair and bulky yet muscular build was seated on the medical armchair in the corner of the room, invested on something in his iPhone; given the way his fingers were moving, Ian thought a game, most likely. The salmon-pink colour of the chair was a very poor match to his lilac button up shirt. Ian had this odd impression that he knew the man.

“The fuck are you?” Mickey spat.

“I’m his emergency contact,” the man say, throwing his chin in the general direction of the dying man.

“The fuck!?” Mickey didn’t trust the man. Not that he cared much. It was mainly that he couldn’t think of anyone listed as Terry’s emergency contact that would willingly come when called. His first thought was that the guy had been the one shooting his dad in the first place and he had come to finish the job. That as well, he didn’t care. As long as he and Ian were not caught in the crossfire, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. He looked at the man on the bed as his thoughts were running wild. And suddenly this feeling came rushing back. Sadness. What the fuck, really?

Ian saw right through his husband. The conflicting feelings and the growing stress of not completely controlling the situation.

“I’m Ian and this is Mickey.” Ian offered to diffuse the situation.

“I’m Andy, this is short for Andriy.”

“It ain’t shorter.” Mickey snorted. A tale-tell that he didn’t completely hate the stranger. And more over an indication that he was once again in full control of his feelings.

“No but it’s more American. Mickey… It’s short for Mikhailo, isn’t it?

“What’s it to you?” Andy laughed at the biting tone that never seemed to leave the angry man standing in front of him.

The man got up and nonchalantly pushed his phone in the back pocket. He came closer to the bed and lifted the charts hanging at the bottom of the bed and perused through it. Mickey found the whole scene utterly funny. Or annoying. He wasn’t quite sure.

“You’re his fuckin’ doc on top?”

“I’m a doctor, but not his.” He looked at the two men still standing by the door.

“Just making sure he’s actually not going make it this time.” Andy smiled at the man he now knew for sure was Terry’s son.

“Is that an issue for you?” Mickey snorted and went straight to the armchair, sat inelegantly, throwing his cargo pants covered leg over the armchair.

“Good luck with that, he’s a fucking cockroach.” Andy turned to Ian who had just spoken in a huff. His eyes suddenly attracted to the ring on his finger. He looked back at the man harbouring the very Milkovich ‘Fuck-u-up’ tattoos and found the same ring. He laughed out loud at the realisation.

“You’re married!” He said miving his index from one man to the other. Even as the laughter died, a grin remained on the man’s face. His blue eyes looking deep into Ian’s soul. Those eyes, fuck, they seemed so familiar.

Mickey got up at once, ready for a fight. “’F you got a problem with that you fuckin’ say it!”

“I have absolutely no problem with that,” he said still smiling.

“Imma knock your fucking smile off!” Mickey joined action to words and was in front of Andy in a few short angry strides. Ian was by their sides in a matter of seconds, his imaginary superhero cape flying high in the wake of his path.

“Mickey.”

“I really don’t have a problem, here Mickey. Just thinking it’s like just deserved you know. Sweet justice.” Andy looked at the man straight in the eyes. Blue met blue.

“Guessing you’re here for the same reason I am.”

“No one else would come.” Ian offered effectively distracting both men from their fight of gaze.

“I’m Terry’s son too,” the blond man answered a question that had not been asked out loud. He seemed happy of the effect his announce had.

“The fuck!”

Yevgeny!

Of course, Yevgeny. Ian hadn’t seen the kid in years, but he was now convinced this would be exactly how Yev would look like as an adult. The bulky build, the short blond hair, the bright blue eyes. This all made sense to Ian now. Lost in his thoughts he only distractively listened to Andriy Miller telling how he had been born before Terry met Laura. His mother had wanted nothing to do with Terry and had happily traded up, marrying a doctor. Terry had reconnected with his son when the latter had successfully become a doctor.

What Andy had thought to be fatherly love at first had rapidly turned to be Terry trying to scam money out of him. From that point forward he had thoroughly, religiously avoided the pitiful excuse of a father that was Terry Milkovich. Except tonight, when he’d be told the asshole would most likely not spend the night, he simply had to check it by himself.

“I’m glad I did, or I would have never met the one person that hurt terry to his chore, jubilant!” He didn’t seem to be able to drop his smile. Mickey didn’t know if he was irritated or downright pissed off by the whole thing. Or maybe just by the smile. That smile was definitely pissing the shit out of him.

“Yeah, ok. Well, it wasn’t that jubilant when he hit the shit out of me. Or when he tried to kill us.” 

That would be at that very moment Andriy Miller understood what sort of life he’d avoided. Thankful to his mother for getting away, and sad for his newfound brother that had not had the same luck in life. He also found he was proud of the man somewhat capable of saying ‘Fuck you’ to his dad in the most glorious way ever.

Right then and there he took a decision. Whatever Terry Milkovich had been trying to pry from his innocent hands throughout the years, Mickey Milkovich would get. And even more if that made Terry crook faster.

Andy had money. Money, he earned from hard work but also money he inherited as the sole child of rich parents. Andy didn’t care much about money – privilege of people that have it.

Andy cared about people. After all that’s what decided him to become a doctor in the first place. He was an only child and the thought of having a brother made it all so worth it.

He might have had Terry as a father but, for sure, he wasn’t a Milkovich. He had no clue how to be deceptive. He couldn’t be a criminal for the life of him. He was vanilla in all its glory, mildly tasty and all in all forgettable. He happened, however, to be a very rich vanilla pod, and willing to get to know his brother, the openly gay son to a notorious homophobe.

It didn’t even occur to Andy, that maybe the man wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Or even worse, would try to play him. If Andy had grown up in a Chicago style fairy tale, all of the other Milkovich kids had been trained from a very young age to scam whoever came their way and was stupid enough to be played.

“Do you live with him?” The blond man said, nodding at Terry. Mickey snorted. The surprise and stupefaction had gone to let anger and a tinsy bit of amusement run wild. And that fucking sadness still creeping in the back of his mind. Fucking why?

Nonetheless, Mickey thought maybe he could humour the northside asshole, scam a few bills. Succeed where Terry had failed. Cherry on the top!

“Fuck no! You didn’t hear when I said he tried to kill us?”

“But he moved the whole Milkovich herd next to my family’s house, so we need to move.” Ian added. Could it be that gingerbread over there was on the same page for once?

“Yeah, but it’s not easy, we need to work some more before we can afford to move.” Bait set.

“I’ve got an apartment!” Bait taken?

“Good for you!” Why the fuck should I care about your living conditions? Give me money Mickey thought.

“No I mean, I’ve got an apartment I could lend you for a while, if you want.”

Well, it’s safe to say that Mickey didn’t see that coming. And given the ‘holy fuck’ whispered by his husband, Ian neither.

“Why the fuck would you do that for?”

“You’re my brother.” Andy started to really like his brother’s expression based on Eyebrow dances and knuckle showing. The man had flipped him at least half a dozen times in the short time they had met. It felt sort of endearing to him. Likely because it was his brother. More likely because he was lonely. The raised eyebrows shooting daggers at him were expecting answers.

“You need an apartment; I have a vacant apartment. You’re my brother. This would piss him off, I believe.” He pointed his thumb at the man still comatose.

As he looked back at his new brother, he saw a crooked smile forming on his face. He knew they were headed the same way. Be it because they were related, or because the Milkovich saw an opportunity to play him. But Andriy found that he didn’t care.

“Ok, we’ll take it.” Simple as that.

“Is it furnished? ‘Coz we can’t pay for shit.” Mickey was testing the water; see how far he could push it. And as usual, Ian was being more cautious. Sometimes Mickey was pissed that Ian could be such a pussy. Other times he was grateful that Ian was the voice of reason. Right now, Mickey had too much going on in his mind to think about that. So, he decided to be pragmatic and focus to the task at hand; convince the moron that was ready to give them a fucking apartment just because they shared some fucked up DNA, to throw in some furniture.

In the grand scheme of Mickey’s life, finding a place to live was the starting point. The condition to give Ian everything he wanted. And giving Ian everything he wanted was Mickey Milkovich’s ultimate goal. He would never admit that out loud because, well, because he wasn’t a pussy, but Ian’s happiness was his happiness. Ian was his happiness. And the soft motherfucker should never know how Mickey was planning their future or he would never hear the end of it.

Ian knew.

“Sure, I can get some furniture in before you move in.”

“How many bedrooms?”

“One.” Andy looked at the two men trying to hide their disappointment from each other rather than from him. Terry’s oldest son was pretty good at reading people. The same way he had deduced that the two men were married and one of them was a Milkovich, he further deduced that the topic of a bigger place to live was linked to kids. That look in those eyes right now he saw it so often. He saw it in hopeful couples, future parents visiting his practice. And once again he knew he could help. As an OBGYN he had connections. Maybe he should use them, for his brother. The son of Terry Milkovich. The gay son of Terry Milkovich who for all accounts wanted to have kids with his husband. So, why exactly wouldn’t he help him, them? This, with no doubt, would send Terry over the edge. But more importantly, He would become an uncle!

“Why? You trying to get pregnant?” The doc decided he was done being subtle. Andriy was this kind of people so sure they were stealthier than most, but really weren’t. His last question, however got Ian and Mickey to react.

“You trying to be funny, asshole?” Oh so, the tall ginger man. Ian. Could actually get angry too. Andriy thought that it made sense. You had to be quite a character to put up with a Milkovich. That moment was when he decided he liked his brother-in-law. He liked having a brother-in-law.

“No, it’s just, I’m an OBGYN, I have connections. I could help.” He smiled widely. “And I have another apartment in the same building, it’s got three bedrooms. It’s yours.”

There was silence for a while. Mickey was all for playing a dumb asshole. But this felt like this guy was playing himself. Not quite sure what to think about it. Maybe he should stop, let it go. Just leave the asshole at the bedside of his dying father. Shit. That nagging feeling of sadness, creeping up again. He looked at his father, weak on the bed, tubes and wires all around the place, weak and defenceless. It would be so easy. So easy. Pulling a plug would suffice, maybe. Not even a need to be sneaky or show strength, just literally unplugging a machine. So why was it so hard to think about it? Why was he thinking twice about it? Mickey didn’t understand what was happening to him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to analyse that shit.

Mickey decided he wanted to see how far he could go with his yuppy newfound brother. First because this was kind of fun. Second because that got his mind occupied and not wandering around feelings he wanted nothing to do with. Also, whatever they could pry out of that motherfucking clown, right!?

“Yeah, OK Aladdin, so you granted us 2 wishes, looks like we got one left.” Mickey said quietly with a crooked smile. He patted the front pocket of his jean jacket in search of his cigarette pack, found it, grabbed a smoke and the lighter from inside the pack and was proceeding to light the stick when Ian snatched the cigarette. Eliciting a rhythmic dance of his husband’s brows and arm, aiming up in means of disagreement. Andy found the two of them highly entertaining.

“It’s the Djiin that grants wishes Mickey not Aladdin.”

“You’re a fuckin’ chick!” Was the reply Ian got for correcting him. So much for general knowledge.

“Who fuckin’ care, Gallagher! So, you gonna grant us another wish or what?” He looked at his brother.

“’Coz, Ian here would be happy to get his job as an EMT back. Maybe your connections can do something about that too.”

Andriy looked into nothing for a short moment. Impressed at how Mickey would push things as if nothing. Yeah, ok Yeah, he’d take the bait, he’d accept the challenge.

“Yeah, sure I can ask around.” He turned to a very flushed Ian. “You’ll get me your résumé?”

“Erm, yeah sure, but…”

“But nothing. He’ll get you his résumé tomorrow.” Mickey brought another cigarette to his mouth but didn’t lit it. He looked at his husband and raised his right brow. Knowing Mickey like the back of his hand, Ian understood this was their cue to leave.

Andriy, understood, when the tall man grabbed their coats and handed Mickey his. It seemed they had decided he should be the one to do all the planning.

“I’ll be here tomorrow morning. Hopefully to give the order to unplug the bastard.” He laughed but was only met by blank faces.

“Yeah, ok. We have a run and we’ll come after, ‘round 11.”

Mickey decided formalities were done, no point to stay any longer. He turned around and exited the room without any last glance or word for that matter.

Ian had noticed his husband’s struggle with his feelings, he understood it. And also understood that they had to trade sensibly around those feelings which, if he knew Mickey, were scaring him.

They got into the lift without a word, only a few glances at each other. As soon as the door to the elevator closed, Ian had to ask.

“You think he’s gonna come through?”

“Who fuckin’ knows?” Mickey looked at Ian over his shoulder and smiled. “If he does, though, we gotta make sure we find someone for that other apartment. Get whatever we can get from him.”

“A one-bedroom apartment is not big enough for Lip or Debs. Carl already has a place. Maybe we could get Mandy to take it. I’d be great if she came back.”

“Don’t get your hopes up red.” He looked at his husband again, showing a smile that he wanted kinda engaging, but that only appeared sad.

Ian pulled Mickey by the waist until the shorter man’s back was flush against his chest. He dropped his jaw on the tensed shoulder. Mickey’s body automatically relaxed, completely independent of his owner’s will. He sighed.

“You know it’s normal to have mixed feelings about all this, right?” Mickey growled in acknowledgement. All he knew in that very moment was that if it wasn’t for Ian, the situation would be unbearable.

He also couldn’t help but hope that that prodigal brother of his, who fell upon them like the fucking fairy godmother over Cinderella’s crib, might actually be the key to their future happiness.

Mickey was hoping. He was hoping because he was happy and like every happy person, he wanted more. He was happy because of Ian.

Mickey was… because of Ian, Mickey simply was.

**Author's Note:**

> Art attached is from @steorie, if you don't know her, check her up. It'll be worth your while!
> 
> If you've got any idea that you would like me to put into words, hit me up!  
> twitter: @anychou  
> insta: @anychou
> 
> And as usual, kudos and comments are the fuel of the writer (and it's green energy so you can use and abuse it!)


End file.
